Ex Fratribus
by kawaipai
Summary: A collection of oneshots revolving around Sam and Dean and very rarely anyone else. They will most likely always be Wee!Chester or Teen!Chester, but you never know. (Hiatus, but please feel free to read anyways.)
1. Beginning

Hello guys! I'm finally posting a story, heh. Enjoy!

 **Beginning**

"C'mon, Dean, hurry up before it rains!"

Dean Winchester almost groaned as he begrudgingly followed his brother into the field. The golden wheat that grew partially to his waist and certainly to Sam's made a shushing sound as they walked through it, and as he glanced up at the dark and brooding sky he saw that Sam wasn't exaggerating. It really _did_ look like it was going to rain soon.

"You're sure you want to do this today?" the older brother inquired. Caution laced his tone strongly, but Sam didn't seem to notice it as he only sped up his pace, his grocery bag of empty soda cans clanking even louder as he tugged it along.

"Yeah I'm sure- I gotta, don't I?" replied the nine-year-old, far too chipperly. "Dad said so."

Ah, yes. Their father himself was behind this, and Dean could honestly say that he was... well. He was conflicted.

Their dad had left for a hunt yesterday in the next town over. A dangerous spirit or something along those lines- he'd been too rushed to be specific. He was on his way out of the small house they were staying in temporarily when suddenly Sam had bolted to the front door.

 _"Wait!" he cried. John paused, confusion etched into his features. Even Dean was surprised._

 _"What is it, son?"_

 _"I-I...," Sam hesitated, his shoulders slumping. His gaze darted to the floor. "I'm scared...,"_

 _"Scared?" Judging by the way he spoke, it was clear that John was not expecting him to say that. "Scared of what?"_

 _"...The thing in my closet," the youngest Winchester answered quietly, his fists clenched. Dean's eyes immediately grew wide in alarm, and John steeled himself._

 _"What thing?"_ _Dean felt compelled to ask, his protective nature taking over. His little brother didn't know it, but it could very well be something dangerous. Sam seemed reluctant to elaborate, but finally mumbled an answer._

 _"I... I don't know what it is. B-but I feel it watching me every night...,"_

 _Dean was going to tell Sam that he was just imagining it, convince him that nothing was there and then look into it when he wasn't around. He wanted to keep his brother's innocence concerning what was in the darkness for as long as possible. But it seemed John had other plans, as he squatted down in front of his youngest son before he could speak. Dean's heart stopped and his eyes nearly popped out of his head as he watched his father pull a .45 out of the duffel bag on his shoulder, holding it out to Sam._

 _"Sam, if you think you see something in your closet, or anywhere else, don't hesitate. Shoot."_

 _The nine-year-old took the gun with wide eyes, cradling it in his hands like it was made of glass. He looked back up at his father uncertainly._

 _"You need to be able to defend yourself, son, like Dean and like me," John continued. "Do you understand?"_

 _Sam nodded slowly, looking back down at the .45._

 _Dean's eyes met his father's, and even though he was trying to express how not-okay he was with this without speaking, the older man's expression said that no argument would be strong enough to change his mind._

 _John redirected his gaze to Sam. He cupped the back of his head,_

 _"Get good with that, Sammy. I'll see you boys later."_

Dean understood completely why their father had given his little brother a gun. There was a very real chance that neither him nor their dad would be there to protect him one day, and then who would take care of him? The kid needed to be able to defend himself, and defense meant a weapon. It made sense.

But, at the same time, Sam was _nine._ He hadn't even reached double digits yet. That was too soon to be handling a gun in Dean's opinion. Sure, he himself had been trained in firearms at a young age, rather close to Sam's current age actually, but that was different. Dean was forced to learn because he was the only one capable of protecting both himself and his brother while their dad was away. He had no choice- Sam, however, did.

His thoughts were interrupted when they reached a bare spot in the wheat field. The small clearing had a tree that lay fallen next to its stump, its rotting wood somewhat of a contrast against the dark sky.

He watched as Sam ran to the tree, eagerly setting up a row of cans on top of it. He placed a few on the stump too, for good measure. Then he went over to Dean, who had his arms folded.

"Will that work, Dean?" the younger Winchester asked. His eyes were sparkling hopefully, craving approval from his older brother. Dean nodded and smiled slightly.

"Yeah, that's great," he replied, his brother's joy at the praise making his smile grow a bit wider. He took a deep but quiet breath, "Are you ready to learn how to shoot a gun, Sammy?"

Sam nodded eagerly and Dean began teaching his brother the basics of handling the weapon their father had given him. He couldn't help the constant feeling of dread that lingered in his chest as he did so, but that was okay. There was nothing he could do to soothe it anyways. As far as the hunting life went, Sam officially had one foot in. Dean would never be able to pull it back out, and Sam would never have the chance to walk away again, not completely anyways. Soon enough his little brother would be aware of the truth, of what really lurks in the shadows of the earth, and soon enough, he'd be killing them just like him and their father. For now, it was simply self defense. It was shooting a gun at cans to improve aim. But it wouldn't stay that way.

This... this was just the beginning.

-o-o-o-

Did you like it? I wonder if the show actually went into detail about the thing in Sam's closet, and the fact that John gave him a gun? (I hope not. I can't remember though. If it did... whoops...)

Thanks for reading!


	2. Adrenaline

Hey guys! Here is the second oneshot! This one took _so_ much revision, so hopefully you guys enjoy it. Sam is 13, and Dean is 17ish.

Also, thanks to those who favorited and followed! Makes me happy :)

 **Adrenaline**

There was something to be said about the distinctive thrill of an adrenaline rush. It's like a drug, only completely natural, and there's no surprise in the fact that many people are addicted to it.

That's how Dean used to view hunting- as an adrenaline rush, an electrifying way to get your heart pounding. Hell, he'd seen it as the _best_ way to get an adrenaline rush. The seventeen-year-old sighed shakily as he felt his little brother burrow deeper into his side, his thin and gangly arms wrapped around Dean's torso.

"Oh, Sam...," he whispered, so faintly that not even he really heard it.

Sam had been exactly like he'd been. He'd thought hunting was nothing more than a sport- the satisfaction and the _adrenaline rush_ of killing something evil and saving lives, then returning home feeling like a hero.

Oh, how wrong that was- the hero part, anyways.

It was the third, maybe the fourth hunt Sam had accompanied them on. A single spirit had been haunting a library and killing off the staff. They'd narrowed it down to a librarian who had been murdered in the very place ten years ago, but she'd been cremated. It turned out that, in the end, they needed to burn a set of dolls kept on display in the library that she'd (very creepily, in both Dean and his family's opinions) made, using her own hair for the dolls'.

However, the spirit had been in the middle of another killing when they got there. They hadn't made it in time... and Sam had been forced to experience a new, much more _awful_ kind of adrenaline rush- and that was being forced to watch an innocent person die right in front of him, unable to do anything against it.

Having just finished the hunt, they now were in the Impala, on their way back to the motel they'd been staying in. For once Dean had forgone riding shotgun in favor of sitting in the back with his brother, who had buried himself into his side within seconds. Sam hadn't really spoken since they'd burnt the dolls and left, and Dean knew that the thirteen-year-old was holding back tears.

He kept his arm around Sam, drawing him just a little bit closer. Dean found that he was holding back a few tears himself.

It wasn't _fair_ , he thought hotly, and with a clenched jaw. The first time _he_ had to deal with this, with the guilt and the regret and the ever-brooding thought of _what if I could have saved them_ , had been over a year after he started hunting. He had had time to prepare for such pain, so to speak. But Sam...

It just wasn't fair.

He glanced up at their father, whose dark eyes were on the road. His expression was steel. But, if he looked hard enough, he could see the tiniest sliver of regret in his eyes. Dean knew full well that John never wanted this life for _any_ of them, and today was one of those days that really drilled guilt into the man.

That was a good thing, that he wasn't completely apathetic; if his father so much as muttered a word of blame against Sam for the loss during the hunt he'd personally shoot him in the foot. Twice.

Thankfully no words were said at all- not even the Impala herself had sung any lullabies of Metallica or ACDC to them during the trip. As they parked right by room number 8, and their father exited the car to grab their things, Dean felt Sam tense up. He hated to admit it (because when it came to Sam he pretty much always knew everything) but he was kind of wondering why, although he wasn't going to force his brother to move if he didn't want to. John tapped on the window half a minute later, slightly curious at their lack of movement despite reaching their destination, and Dean jutted his chin subtly towards Sam, mouthing a few words.

 _Give us a minute._

John seemed to get the message- he wasn't stupid after all- and nodded once, disappearing instantly.

As soon as their father was gone Dean looked down at his little brother.

"Hey," he said quietly. "What's up?"

Sam simply shrugged- although it was more a twitch of the shoulders- and sniffled.

"...Couldn't save'r."

"That wasn't your fault," Dean was quick to remind, eager to ease unnecessary guilt (because it was _not_ Sam's fault), "There was no way we could have sped up the investigation to get there in time, especially because we already had _you_ heading it up. You're our fastest researcher." Indeed, Sam had found the newspaper article on the dolls that librarian had made ten times faster than either him or their father would have. It had made Dean proud at the time, and still did even as he thought about it now.

Sam seemed to chew on the words, still unmoving. He let out a small sigh. "Dad's going to blame me. I really didn't want to disappoint him."

And there it was; the reason behind Sam's hesitation to leave his spot. He didn't want to face their father. Dean frowned and began to card his fingers through his little brother's locks with the hand that wasn't wrapped around him, the motion a soothing one that always worked in calming him down. He smiled faintly as he felt Sam relax in his hold, vaguely hit with the fact that his brother was still just a kid- young, caring, and wanting to please his father, and yet worried about letting the man down because someone fucking _died._ He growled mentally at the realization.

"You didn't disappoint anyone, Sam. Not me and certainly not dad. You got that fugly ghost, so it won't hurt anyone else, right? You did your best, and got the job done right, and although it didn't end perfectly these things happen to even the best of hunters. It doesn't make you the horrible person you think you are, I promise," he said, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

"But Dean I-,"

"You what? Could have saved her?" Dean asked, beginning to take a tough-love approach. He knew it was probably a bit harsh but he needed to drill this into the kid. He couldn't let Sam shoulder something he didn't need to. "I hate to break it to you Sam, but you couldn't have changed anything."

Tears began to stream down the boy's face and Dean swore his heart physically hurt at the sight. He twisted to his right, towards Sam, and grabbed his chin. He forced his brother's hazel eyes to stare into his own and said, in a firm yet gentle tone,

"Listen to me Sam. That woman? She died. And it's sad. But it was not. Your. Fault.Do you understand? You are _not_ to blame."

With these words Sam burst into a fresh set of sobs, burying his face in Dean's shirt. Dean kept his hold on his brother tight, resting his chin on the soft brown locks. He remained silent, knowing that the kid needed to get this out of his system.

"It's okay, buddy," he soothed. "It's okay...,"

After a few minutes Sam seemed to calm down, his harsh crying dwindled down to sniffles and hiccups. He pulled away from Dean, wiping his eyes.

"I know it hurts," Dean said again. "But it'll be okay. _You'll_ be okay. I promise. Okay?"

"...Okay," Sam said finally, with one last sniffle. Then, "Hey, Dean?"

"Hm?" Dean fixed his brother's bangs as Sam looked up at him, hazel eyes teary but wide with gratitude.

"...Thanks."

Dean smiled a rare, soft smile, one he never showed anyone except Sam. He felt too many emotions well up in his chest at the sight of his little brother, who looked far too young with his big watery eyes and his shaggy hair that covered his face. He ruffled the boy's hair.

"No problem little brother. Now what do you say we clean go clean up and I'll make some mac-n-cheese? I'm done with this chick-flick stuff, plus I'm hungry."

Sam chuckled quietly- a noise that was music to the older brother's ears- and the duo went inside the motel room to join their father. Dean was grateful as John remained silent, only reaching out to fondly ruffle Sam's hair as he headed for the bathroom, and silently gave the man an 'ok' sign. Then he went to the tiny kitchenette to follow through with dinner, his mind wandering as he cooked.

Sam had watched a person die.

Realization sunk in, hitting him like a punch to the stomach, and he felt a bit dizzy. Watching a life become snuffed out right before your eyes wasn't something to take lightly. Any hunter would tell you that.

He was extremely proud of his brother for many reasons, but he still couldn't help but worry about the kid altogether. Sam didn't necessarily want to hunt- actually, as enthusiastic as he might be at times, Dean suspected he didn't want to hunt at _all_ \- but they really didn't have a choice. It was just how their lives were. They had to suck it up and deal with it. It still stung, though, especially at times like these when Sam was forced to grow up and deal with shit that most grown adults didn't have to worry about. They made Dean loathe their lifestyle even more.

However, it was the hand of cards they were dealt. A life of hardships, of pain, of... of _death_. Through it all one thing would remain the same though, for Dean anyways, and that was a vow: protect Sam, always. He'd been doing it all his life and now that his little brother was hunting more regularly it certainly wouldn't change. As he poured the macaroni into the pot of boiling water, he inwardly renewed this vow.

Sam had one notch of shit-that-came-with-hunting officially notched into his belt. He knew from experience that the kid would be reflecting on this for days, replaying the moments in his mind, switching things around and changing his actions so that the outcome would be better. He would be hard to deal with, and there would most likely be tension, but it would be okay. It would be okay because, just as he was in the car, he would be there for his little brother. Sam may have to deal with pain that he didn't deserve because of a lifestyle he didn't choose, and that may be the least fair thing Dean had ever known, but he would be there for him. No matter what. And, Dean realized with a small smirk as he mused on his earlier thoughts: it was worth it, because the feeling he'd gotten when Sam had looked at him with so much love, so much trust...

That- being there for him, being a _big brother_ \- that was the best kind of adrenaline rush of all.

-o-o-o-

I feel like this turned out a lot better than I thought it would. I hope you liked it too. See you next chapter!


End file.
